I never truly had a problem with where we lived. It was a secluded area but that also just meant privacy was easy to come by. It was a small county in eastern Tennessee that had maybe a hundred houses or so. It was just me and my parents alone in the mountains. Mom had gotten used to the mountain life and never gave much thought to leaving.
My Dad worked as a county game warden and usually never got home until around eight or nine at night. I remember one night though; he came home rather early. He always had keys to open the door with and would typically come right in, grab something to eat, sit in his recliner, and then head straight to bed. But tonight he came in and silently sat at the table, not moving or eating. He just sat there with his head in his hands.
“Something wrong, dad?” I asked him. He turned to look at me with a grim look of sadness crawling over his face. Oddly enough it seemed to quickly contort to a look of concern now. “Mike has been missing from the station for almost two days. Nobody has been able to track him down and his family is becoming restless. Just been hard to face a wife and kids who think they’ve just lost their husband and father. That’s all, buddy” he told me, with an almost solemn tone to his voice. Mike was his partner for the past few years. He was younger man no more than maybe 30 years old.
Mom came in and started having a conversation with dad while I returned to the TV. Their voices both cracked from time to time, I presumed it was due to the gravity of the situation. About ten minutes later Dad returned to the living room with Mom and They turned the TV off while I was watching it. Before I could protest, they both looked at me and spoke. “Son until this all clears up, I want you to promise me a few things, okay? From now on don’t open the door for anybody. Me and your mother both have keys, and we can let ourselves in.” he told me while I listened intently. “We won’t have a need to knock or call for you, and if you hear any of that, simply ignore it and go to your room. You have our cellphone numbers, so please just call us if you need to.” he finished. I nodded my head, slightly concerned about the exact reasons for these specific rules, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for my parents to occasionally be strict.
Agreeing to their terms, I went to sleep. I was on winter break from school, so I had no reason to rise early. The next morning, I got up while mom was sending dad off for work. They always gave each other a peck and said “I love you” before parting ways. This morning though seemed somehow more dire than usual. There was a grave sense of concern in my mother’s voice as they said goodbye.
The day was rather normal, up until it was time for dad to come home. He didn’t use the keys like usual. He just knocked; I almost didn’t think it was him until I remembered his truck lights pulling in through the window. I figured I’d play along and open the door with a funny face or a joke to greet him. But when I opened the door, I was only met with a furious father. “Trey, what was the one simple rule I told you to follow?” he said. His voice was stern and angered. “I’m sorry Dad, I-I just…knew it was you.” I replied. “No, you didn’t. You just thought it was me. I told you I would let myself in!” his voice bellowed loudly at me. My mom walked in and seemed to try and calm him down. “Henry, he’s just confused and I’m sure he won’t make the mistake again. Go easy on him.” my mom said softly.
Dinner was quiet that night. Between Dad being furious with me, and Mom trying to keep the peace, you could cut the tension with a knife. Mom tried breaking the ice. “Any updates on Mike?” she asked. “We got a call this morning. They found him down by Deerpoint creek.” he said, sounding somewhat hopeless. “Well, that’s great! I’m sure his family was relieved.” Mom said to him. Dad looked up with tears in his eyes. It took a moment but both me and Mom realized the gravity of the situation. Mom never asked if he was found alive, and now somehow, we knew she didn’t need to.
“Look at me, both of you.” Dad said in a demanding voice. “I don’t know if it’s a person or a thing, but right now this mountain isn’t safe. I can’t explain the testimonies and stories that I got surrounding Mike but I know that whoever did this, is smart.” he told us. “They’re posing as other people, pretending to be someone they’re not so that they can get in their homes and lives.” he said. Dad looked over at me and saw the concern in my eyes. He excused me from the table and said he loved me before sending me to my room so he and mom could talk. I tried listening but i couldn’t make out what was being said. “Mike…wife…body…two weeks old…hiding…house…two…missing” is all I could make from their chat.
That night I had trouble sleeping. The jumbled words I had made out played in my head over and over like a blank record. I tried piecing together the bits of conversation that I had heard. So far, I had “Mike’s wife said…body two weeks old…someone hiding in the house…two kids missing”. I shuttered at my concoction of the mind. What i made up Mike’s wife said his body was found to be two weeks old, even though they found it this morning and apparently, he was only missing for a few days. That begs the question of who was with his family all that time?
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the window that made my heart stop. It was too dark to see anything, but the person knocked again. “Trey, can you let me in?” he said, I recognized the voice. It was my father’s voice. “Dad? What are you doing outside?” I asked. He took a moment to respond. “I thought I heard something and went to check it out but the door shut behind me. It’s cold out here, buddy! Let me in!”. I was still frozen in fear, but somehow my concerns got worse as a figure appeared in my doorway. It was my father, wearing his typical loungewear pajamas. He held a finger up in silence to me, signaling me to be quiet.
“Trey?” the voice from outside called out. My Dad erupted so abruptly that I jumped in my bed. “Get away from my house! Stay away from my family!” he yelled. The voice from outside never replied. The only sounds I could hear were what seemed like low growls and something that sounded similar to a cat’s purr. My dad wrapped his arms around me and told me it was okay, and he was proud of me for not complying to the person’s request.
The next morning Dad called off work. He decided to stay home with me and Mom, presumably to ensure whatever was at my window last night wouldn’t come back. That night around nine at night, we all three heard a knock at the door. My dad didn’t respond and held his hand up to signal all of us to remain silent. “Guys it’s just me!” the voice rang out. “I’m headed to the station for an emergency. Did I leave my keys to the house in there?” he replied. My mother had tears swiftly form in her eyes, while my heart began to beat faster and faster. “I was hoping you’d show up tonight. I wanted to catch you off guard!” my REAL father called out to the voice.
The only noise that followed was a quick yelp, like a dog had been frightened, and the patter of feet scurrying away. “Henry, what was that?” my mother asked him. My dad held his head down as he thought about how to respond. “I don’t know, Amanda. But I know it wants in this house.” he replied in a hushed tone.
Dad radioed for several of his officer friends to come to the house. When they arrived they found that our mailbox was torn to shreds, our flag torn from the house, and small holes dug into the yard everywhere. Whatever was at our door must have thrown a tantrum after Dad sent it away. We all three walked outside and Dad agreed to attempt to follow the being with his friends. He made Mom promise to not open the door like usual.
As we both made our way back inside, I went straight to my room to hide under the blanket and pray that I wouldn’t hear a knock or a call. My pleasant surprise, I didn’t. About an hour later, Dad called to tell us that he was on his way home and they couldn’t find anything. I presumed Mom was in shock still, because she didn’t reply, she only weakly nodded her head.
Dad got home and walked straight through the door. He was scared about something but also mad too. “TREY! AMANDA! WHO LEFT THE DOOR UNLOCKED?1” he yelled at us. Mom tried calming him down. “Honey, nobody knocked or tried to come in. I’ve been watching the door all night.” she assured him. Dad looked around frantically. “Henry, I think you’re just paranoid about us. We’re okay, and so are you.” she told him. They both walked to their bedroom as I returned to mine.
The next morning, I woke up and found the house vacant. Mom nor Dad was in their room. I saw the front door open and presumed they were outside. I smelled something though. It was a vile and disgusting smell. It was coming from their bedroom. I walked in and the putrid aroma was coming from within their closet. I opened the closet and realized just how crucial our mistake last night was. I saw the body of my mother, a single slash wound in her neck had caused blood to spill out everywhere on the carpet. I cried as I stood there and fell to my knees. My own mother, dead in front of me. As I looked at her body…my mind began to flare, as if I had noticed something without actually noticing it.
My mother didn’t have a mole under her eye. As a matter of fact, her eyes were uneven, with her left eye almost drooping below her nose. She had no teeth, but upon further inspection, she had no place for them. This woman or “thing” wasn’t my mother at all. As that thought crossed my mind, I looked up to see both of my parents storm into the room with the police.
They apologized to me while escorting me outside. They said they had hoped to catch me before I woke up to explain. But the story I was given was clearly a fabricated story to shield me from what really happened. I was told a woman was trying to break into our house after Dad had written her a ticket that pushed her over the edge. But I wasn’t buying it. I knew this thing was capable of far more than just being a psycho. Psychos don’t manipulate voices and faces at will. Whatever this thing was, it was dead. That’s all that matters to me.
As we walked to our car to allow the investigators to continue, I looked up at my dad who had his arm around me. I noticed something. Did he always have black hair?